


Glam_100 drabbles - 2011

by Leela



Series: glam_100_drabbles [3]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Community: glam_100, Gen, M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a different drabble written for the prompts in the <a href="http://glam-100.livejournal.com/">Glam 100 community on Livejournal</a>, starting with prompt 002. Earlier prompts were posted individually.</p><p>NOTE: See the chapter notes for Content, Warnings, and Pairings on that drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flicker (Adam/Tommy)

**Author's Note:**

> Imaginary things about imaginary versions of real people.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every fifth breath he lowers his palm towards the flame and holds it there through the sixth when the heat forces him to raise it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Adam/Tommy
> 
> Content/Warnings: None
> 
> Written for glam_100, prompt #002: playing with fire. Thanks to Minxie for the preread.

Adam's living room's as dark as the night outside, lit only by a candle that stands on a low table and is reflected in every window. Adam sits in front of it, legs crossed, meditating.

Every fifth breath he lowers his palm towards the flame and holds it there through the sixth when the heat forces him to raise it again.

"Don't play with fire," his mother said.

The rule seemed so simple when he was a child and so difficult now, when the fire's Tommy Joe, and Adam is as drawn to him as a moth to a flame.

*

Light flickering through the windows at the back of Adam's house catches Tommy's attention. He's drawn to it, unable to walk away, even as he wonders what the fuck brought him there in the middle of the night.

Through the windows, he can see Adam. A single candle lights his face from below, and he's toying with the flame. Coming far too close to burning himself.

Not taking his eyes off Adam, Tommy walks up to the open doors and stands between them. Feeling the heat pouring through him as he gets closer to Adam, Tommy understands why he's there.

*

Pulling his hand away from the flame, Adam raises his eyes. Tommy's standing between the doors, between outside and inside, as if Adam's wanting had conjured him.

Still, in that hoodie, ratty jeans, and old pair of creepers, Tommy's way too dressed to be a mirage. If Adam were dreaming, Tommy would be wearing a lot fewer clothes.

Tommy shrugs and gives Adam a sly grin. "Better things you can do with fire than play with it like that."

Joy flaring through him, Adam holds out his hand with its unmarked palm and waits for Tommy to come to him.


	2. Shifting Claims (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the second hour, Tommy's hearing claws scrape on stone. His shoulders are hunched and his hackles are rising. He doesn't really get worried, though, until he scents the swamp somewhere along St Peter or maybe it was Decatur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Adam/Tommy
> 
> Content/Warnings: Shifter AU
> 
> Written for glam_100, prompt #003: bewitched by the bayou. Thanks to aislinntlc and minxie for the beta/cheerleading.

Adam's sweeping through the French Quarter in full fucking Lambert mode, surrounded by friends and trailing fans. He stops in this club and that bar, occasionally singing with one of the buskers to help fill their hats and guitar cases.

By the second hour, Tommy's hearing claws scrape on stone. His shoulders are hunched and his hackles are rising. He doesn't really get worried, though, until he scents the swamp somewhere along St Peter or maybe it was Decatur.

"We should go," Tommy says.

Adam just ruffles his hair, says, "Bewitched by the bayou, glitterbaby," and launches into another song.

o)(o

Tommy stops drinking anything but water around midnight, when he's about choking on the smell of bayou. Two hours later, Adam's finally done. They're almost at the hotel when Tommy discovers it's too late.

The pack's blocking the sidewalk, members fanned out behind their alpha.

Tall, dark, and everything Tommy isn't, the alpha says, "I want him, _p'tit_."

"Shit." Monte pulls out his cell.

Adam just says, "No."

The alpha starts laughing when Tommy tells Adam, "This kind of bewitching, you fucking do not want."

He moves to face the alpha with a growl of _Mine_ building in his chest.

o)(o

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tommy asks, as Adam tries to move in front of him. It's a dumb-ass move, but habit almost has Tommy doing it anyway.

"Maybe I'll claim you too," the alpha muses. "Wandering around packless and unprotected screams out for discipline."

"No," Tommy says. "You let them leave, and we fight."

"Now why would I allow that?"

"What've you got to lose? If you win, you'll know where they are soon enough."

"Such confidence, _p'tit_." The alpha bares his teeth. His pack shifts sideways, but Adam and the others just stand there, as if bewitched.

o)(o

"Go!" Tommy jerks his head towards the hotel.

The only response is Monte muttering under his breath, until Sutan says, "I don't think so."

"You don't want to be in the middle of this. Trust me."

Instead of listening, the others close in behind Tommy, fanning out to match the pack. And Adam catches him unaware, slipping in next to him like he fucking _wants_ to be claimed. The bite mark on Tommy's hip aches just thinking about it.

Before Tommy can object, Adam's draping an arm over his shoulders like he does on stage, and Tommy's the one bewitched.

o)(o

Tommy leans into Adam, neck bent as if Adam were his alpha, because that's what he always does. The same reason, he's sure, that Adam squeezes Tommy's shoulder and then curls his hand around the back of Tommy's neck.

By the time Tommy realizes what they've done, how the bayou pack will see it, it's too late.

The strange alpha is moving towards them with a quizzical look on his face. "He's human, _p'tit_."

"Tell me something I don't know." Tommy tries to twist free, but Adam just tightens his grip.

The alpha grins. "I could help you with that."

o)(o

"We don't need anything from you," Adam says, his thumb caressing the skin behind Tommy's ear.

"Offer's not yours, human." Grabbing Tommy's jaw, wrenching it up, the alpha says, "What do you say?"

Tommy's not an alpha, never will be. He means to say no, as politely as his mama taught him, but he's too angry, too damn bewitched. These are his humans, his chosen pack, the bastard's threatening.

That shit is so not fucking on.

He rips free and stands between them. Sound reverberates through his chest. His lips peel back, revealing sharp pointed fangs. And he snarls, " _No_!"

o)(o

The alpha rears up at Tommy's challenge, shock and fury visible in every line of his body. His nails snap into claws, and he fucking _growls_.

"Oh hell," Cam mutters.

Adam starts to crowd up behind Tommy, but Monte holds him back, telling him that Tommy needs space to move.

The urge to shift hammering through his veins, Tommy shoves his hair out of his face and says, "The French Quarter is neutral ground, asshole. Fuck off back to the bayou."

Shaking his head, the alpha starts to speak, but his words are drowned out by the sound of sirens.

o)(o

The alpha places a clawed finger on Tommy's mouth, curves it just so, and nicks his lower lip. "Bayou's pretty this time of year, _p'tit_. I think you'll love it." Then, licking the blood off his claw, he shifts and bounds off into the shadows, followed by his pack.

"Motherfuckers," Terrance says, "vanished into thin air."

 _Not really_ , Tommy thinks. _Just moving faster than your eyes can follow_.

Adrenaline gone, exhausted, feeling alone and freakish as he hasn't in months, Tommy lowers his head, hiding behind his hair, and lets Monte and Adam herd him inside.

No one touches him.

o)(o

They split up in the lobby. Monte stays to talk to the hotel staff and get them to deal with the cops. Everyone else heads upstairs.

Their sideways glances crawl over Tommy's skin, bewitching him with unasked questions. He huddles in a corner of the elevator, leaving space between him and everyone else that they don't even try to cross.

In Adam's suite, everyone piles onto the couches, chairs, even the floor. Tommy stands by the window, not quite putting his back to them. An hour ago, they were his friends, his pack. He isn't sure what they are now.

o)(o

The silence breaks when Monte closes the door behind him. "Hotel's got it," he says. "No paps anywhere in sight. And they'll keep us out of it."

Adam's staring at his hands, as if bewitched.

Terrance, Taylor, and Allison all talk at once, asking what that guy was, not what Tommy is.

"Motherfucking claws, man," Taylor says, demonstrating the curve with his hands. "I about shit myself."

Cam's quiet, curled up on the couch.

Cutting across everyone, shutting down the near-hysteria, Sutan says, "You're not a werewolf."

It's a statement, not a question, and it brings everyone's eyes to Tommy.

o)(o

Tommy peers at them through his hair. It takes him three tries to get out a simple "No."

The resulting silence is heavier than the bayou alpha's claw. He's about to cut and run, try and start all over again, when Adam rasps out, "Tell us."

There's something deep, painful, and raw in Adam's voice that sends a shudder through Tommy. He failed his pack. He failed Adam, the alpha he'd apparently chosen. Failed again…

Memories of blood and broken bodies swamp Tommy. He's not sure he can survive losing another pack. A whine builds in his throat, choking him.

o)(o

"Tell us," Adam repeats the words. His voice is smoother this time, holds less failure, and Tommy is able to nod, to clear his throat.

"Not a werewolf," Tommy says. "Not a fucking—"

He shakes off the insult, not wanting to drown in words that wouldn't make sense to humans. "I was born to pack. Claimed by my alpha as a child."

"They're—" he falters and swipes at his nose. "We lost a pack war. That bayou bastard is the first to want me." He straightens up, manages to look directly at Adam. "I won't be claimed against my will."

o)(o

The others are uncharacteristically quiet, their curious gazes moving between Tommy and Adam.

Tommy's heading towards the breaking point again, when he decides he's got fuck-all to lose. "Easier to show you than explain," he says, closing the curtains.

Long past the time when he needs to be naked to shift, he takes a breath and tries a joke, "It's nothing like the movies," that falls flatter than a pancake. So he goes for it.

His clothes slide away as his body becomes fluid, twists and turns on itself. When it's over, he's standing on four paws, and they're bewitched.

o)(o

Born to pack, Tommy doesn't look quite like any feline found in nature. He's long and lean. His eyes are the same dark brown with elongated yellow pupils. His fur's thick, tufted around his ears, and black as his natural hair, decorated with blond rosettes that inspired his choice of hair dye.

They're staring at him, wide-eyed and bewitched. Wanting to break the spell, Tommy yawns, showing off his sharp, pointed teeth.

Cam makes an incoherent noise that Tommy can't interpret.

Sutan says, "Tommy, honey, you're almost prettier as a cat."

Tommy's about to yawn again, when Adam stands up.

o)(o

Adam removes his boots and socks before moving slowly towards Tommy. Then, he sits down, cross-legged, so they're almost at eye level. "I don't like house cats."

Tommy's ears droop.

"They shed and claw, and they have no respect for anything." Adam gives him a wry smile.

 _I'm no goddamn house cat_ , Tommy wants to say, but it comes out as an annoyed yowl.

"On the other hand, you'd be miserable on the bayou." Adam reaches out, digs his hand into the fur behind Tommy's ears, and scratches.

Tommy's purr is embarrassingly loud, and he fucking leans into Adam's touch.

o)(o

"Okay, folks, this isn't a side-show, even if Tommy makes a bewitching cat," Monte says. "We can always talk more on the bus tomorrow."

He comes over and gives Tommy a quick pet before heading off. After that, it's a mini-parade. Everyone wants to touch Tommy, and hug and kiss Adam. Tommy would be embarrassed if he weren't so damned relieved.

By the time they've all left and he's alone with Adam, Tommy's purring so hard he's vibrating. He curls up on the floor, trying not to shed on Adam's pants, and decides that he's not going to fucking cry.

o)(o

When they're alone, Adam says, "Come back to me."

Tommy shifts back between one heartbeat and the next, ending up sprawled naked on the floor.

"Smooth, Ratliff." Adam snickers.

"I'd like to see you fucking try it," Tommy says. He's tucking his junk into his pants, when Adam stops him.

Adam's staring at Tommy's claim mark with the same intensity as the bayou alpha gave to Tommy. The mark's dark red and clearly not made by a human mouth. Adam traces it with a fingertip, and heat rushes through Tommy.

"Don't," Tommy says, pulling away. "Not unless you mean it."

o)(o

Adam grips Tommy's hip, holding him in place. "Why do you think I don't mean it?"

"You've never—"

He's silenced by Adam's finger on his lips, pressing into the bayou's alpha's mark. "You've always kept something… hidden, held back," Adam says. "I don't do halfway."

Ducking his head, Tommy hides behind his hair. "Christ, you have no idea."

"No." Adam forces Tommy to look up. "I never will either, unless you trust me enough to tell me."

Tommy stares at him, bewitched by the intensity, the honesty, in Adam's eyes. Finally, swallowing down the urge to puke, he says, "Okay."

o)(o

Grabbing Tommy by the hair, Adam leads him into the bedroom. At a flick of Adam's fingers, Tommy strips off the pants he never buttoned up and lays down on the bed.

The first kiss is easy, a press of the lips and lick of the tongue that ends with Adam trailing his lips all the way down to the claim mark. He runs his fingers over it, touches it with his tongue, and scowls.

"It tastes wrong," Adam says.

Bewitched, terrified and hopeful, Tommy nods and rests a shaking hand on Adam's arm. "You gonna fix it for me?"

o)(o

Adam raises his head and stares intently at Tommy. "That guy said being human was a problem."

"He was an asshole, who didn't care what I wanted," Tommy says. "Just fucking do it. We can talk later."

Adam's teeth are blunt, nothing like the sharp fangs that last claimed him, but Tommy doesn't give a shit. He grinds his hip into Adam's mouth.

And when Tommy's skin finally gives, when Adam's sucking Tommy's blood and mixing his saliva into the wound, Tommy announces his claiming in a half-human, half-feline yowl of satisfaction.

He's been totally fucking bewitched by the bayou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cat Nap](http://archiveofourown.org/works/314645/chapters/531525)
> 
> takes place in the same 'verse.


	3. Unchained Melody (?/? - reader's choice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We spend our days and nights coming together and moving apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** ? (reader's choice)  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #004: puppet master. Thanks to florida_minxie, vlredreign, and eeyore9990 for the beta/cheerleading when I got stuck in my previous attempt.

We spend our days and nights coming together and moving apart. It's part of being in a band, of being on tour. Music runs through us, brings us together, pushes us apart.

Kisses soft. Kisses desperate. Touches gentle. Touches hard and taunting, moving me beyond anything anyone has ever done. But there's another who loves, more than I ever can.

So I walk away and join the others, laugh and smile with them, flirt and tease because that's who we are, no matter how much it confuses the fans.

Inside, though, I'm on my knees. A puppet without a master.


	4. Everybody Knows (Adam/Draco Malfoy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy doesn't believe in half-vampires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing/Characters: Adam Lambert/Draco Malfoy
> 
> Rating: PG
> 
> Content/Warning(s): Glam/HP crossover
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #005: vampires. Thanks to aislinntlc for the preread. Blame her and Sulwen for this idea.

"Half-vampire?" Draco Malfoy snorted, tossing _Wizard's Weekly_ across the Slytherin common room. "As if, D'Eath."

"What's that?" Adam closed his Potions textbook and looked down at Draco, who was stretched across the sofa with his head in Adam's lap.

"Bloody Lorcan D'Eath giving Slytherins a bad name again." Draco scowled. "You'd think he'd be happy with being gorgeous and having a song at the top of the charts. But nooooo... fucking D'Eath has to spin a web of lies and claim he's a half-vampire."

Discarding his book, Adam combed his fingers through Draco's hair. "Why do you assume he's lying?"

^V^V^

Moving so quickly that he left a few stray hairs in Adam's fingers, Draco shifted onto his knees facing Adam. He tugged on Adam's yellow and black striped tie. "You are such a Hufflepuff."

Adam almost fell for the distraction, but caught himself at the last minute. "What has my house got to do with Lorcan D'Eath?"

"You're just the type to fall for his shite." Draco wound Adam's tie around his fingers. "Everyone knows that vampires are sterile."

Running his tongue over the fangs he kept hidden, Adam grasped Draco's hands to keep him from leaving. "Erm, about that..."


	5. Blood & Drugs & Rock & Roll (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I inhale colors, music, and the breath of Adam's life. Everything's better than fine until the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Vampire + Sex = Bloodplay  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #005: vampires. Thanks to vlredreign for the preread. The title is a play on the song by Ian Dury  & the Blockheads.

Vampires and drugs don't mix. At least that's what my sire always said. It's a bit of an exaggeration, though. Vampires, drugs, and mortals don't mix is more like it.

If enough fucking smoke gets into my lungs—yes, vampires do breathe—my self-control goes to shit. Christ, Amsterdam's proving bad for that. I almost say no, but the smoke in the air's getting to me anyways. So, I think, what the fuck? And I lean toward Adam before I change my mind.

I inhale colors, music, and the breath of Adam's life. Everything's better than fine until the kiss.

^V^

The motherfucking kiss.

He kisses me almost every night we play. It's just another part of the act. Adam licks at my lips, I open my mouth to let him in, and he dances away a few seconds later.

But this is Amsterdam, and we're both riding high. Our kiss gets deeper and deeper. He bends me back over the stage. Plays my bass with his mic. Plays my mouth with his tongue.

And it's fucking amazing until Adam's tongue catches on one of my fangs. It slides across the tip, soft and sweet, and his blood drops into me.

^V^

Christ, the bastard's addictive enough without that shit.

I stumble off the stage and through the usual post-concert rigmarole, still fucking tasting Adam's blood in my mouth, still feeling his presence like the weight of lightning about to strike. Sutan cuts me a couple of weird sideways glances as we make our way to the hotel but accepts my explanation of smoke and music.

We split at the elevators. Everyone else heads for the after-party in Adam's suite. I shake them off, going to my room. It's not private enough, not far away enough, but it's the best I've got.

^V^

I've just got the door open when Adam slams up behind me and shoves me inside. He twists me around and throws me down on the bed, dropping on top of me to use his weight to hold me there. I let him do it, and I'm not sure why.

Until he runs a thumb over my lips, pushing them apart, scraping it over my fangs. I flick my tongue at his skin.

Blood so close to the surface. So damn sweet and full of life. I grab his wrist, wrench his hand away, and say, "It's not a game."

^V^

His answer is to kiss me, dragging his tongue back over my teeth, cutting himself again. When he raises his head, there's blood on his lips. I press mine together, sucking as I swallow the few drops of his blood.

"I know what you are," Adam says. "And I fucking want you."

"You—" Words fail me, drowned in an avalanche of hunger and need.

" _I_." He swipes his bloody tongue over my lips.

" _Want_." He rubs his hard cock against my hip.

" _You_." He breathes the word into my ear, the curve of his neck dangerously close to my mouth.

^V^

And just like that my fucking control is shot. My fangs descend with an almost audible snap. My pupils swirl into slits that see so much more than mortal eyes.

"Clothes off," I say.

Adam's clothes are off before mine. He lies back on the bed, dead center.

I crawl up between his legs, licking his inner thighs, scratching them with my fangs. The steady beat of his femoral artery gives me pause, and I stop to suck his blood to the surface, but then I smell his arousal.

I want all of him: blood and semen, sex and feeding.

^V^

My mouth is on Adam's cock, and his hands are in my hair, tangling and tugging. "Tommy Joe," he says. "Fuck."

I play him with my tongue and my mouth, twisting and turning, until his hips are pistoning upwards and he's swearing a blue streak. When his cock is that much harder, I pull off.

"Motherfucker," he says.

The skin of his belly is so soft, so fragile. I nip lightly, not quite enough to draw blood, all the way up to his nipples. I tease them, sucking and rolling them between my tongue and teeth. Slowly increasing the pressure.

^V^

Eyes closed, Adam arches his back, pressing his chest into my mouth, writhing beneath me. His cock rubs against my hip, mine against his thigh.

"Fucking do something," he moans.

I graze my fangs over Adam's collarbone, lapping up each bead of blood I draw from him.

When he reaches the edge of orgasm, when his hips are lifting off the bed as he thrusts, I kiss his throat.

Adam begs, and I suck on his jugular. He throws his head back, and I bite through his skin.

He comes as his blood flows into my mouth, and I'm lost.


	6. Never a Nightmare (Adam/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never a nightmare, except that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Adam/?
> 
> A/N: Written for glam_100, prompt #005: vampires. Apparently that prompt owns me. Thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

A flash of fang from between parted and painted lips. A scrape of nail along inked skin. These are the things he cannot forget, the images that haunt him day and night.

Especially at night, because that's when he remembers.

Cold hands trail up his arms to his neck. Fingers curve into his hair, holding him still.

If it weren't for the videos, the tweets, the CDs, and the DVD, he might've shrugged it off as a dream. Never a nightmare, except in the way it left him hard and craving.

Except in the way he woke up whispering, "Adam."


	7. No Escaping... (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long forgotten Google alert hits Tommy's cell phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Implied prior sexual abuse  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #006: you'd be calling out my name. Many thanks to vlredreign for the preread and the reassurance.

Tommy's walking through the house when the Google alert hits his phone. It's been so long that he'd forgotten he'd set the damned thing. But nowhere near long enough to stop his hands from shaking, his gut from churning, or his heart from pounding somewhere up in his throat as he taps the link.

The motherfucker's dead. Murdered by his latest victim. Stabbed through the chest, eyes, and _oh hell yeah_ , his goddamned dick.

"If I'd done it myself," he mutters, as his knees buckle and he crashes down to the hardwood floor, "you'd have been calling out my name."

o0o

When Adam finds Tommy, he's still on his knees in the hallway. Harsh breaths scrape in and out of Tommy's throat. He's got his arms wrapped around his stomach, and he's rocking ever so slightly in place. His phone lies dark and abandoned on the floor in front of him.

Adam waits for five beats, then another ten, before he feels calm enough to sit beside Tommy. Keeping his voice quiet, gentle, he says, "Hey."

"Died too fucking easy," Tommy says. "Should've done him myself."

A thousand questions wash through Adam's mind, but he hasn't a clue what to say.

o0o

They stay like that, not touching, until Tommy can't stand it any longer. He scoops up his phone and tosses it at Adam. "Check it out."

Not wanting to see, unable to look away, he watches through a protective curtain of hair as Adam flicks on the phone and reads.

Each microscopic change in Adam's expression, each tightened muscle make Tommy flinch. He can see Adam putting one and nothing together and coming up with an answer that Tommy never wanted anyone else to have.

"He—" Adam drops the phone "—you."

Tommy clutches himself tighter, bracing for rejection, and nods.

o0o

Anger and bile rise in the back of Adam's throat. "Fuck," he chokes out and then clears his throat. "I wanna kill the motherfucker for you."

Tommy's head jerks up. He stares at Adam, wide-eyed and shocked. His mouth works, but no words come out.

That's when Adam realizes what Tommy was expecting. "Oh," he says, reaching out and then pulling his hand back. "I need—" He stops, not wanting to force anything more on Tommy.

A painful sound tears out of Tommy, and he falls towards Adam.

Adam catches him and holds him as tightly as he's being held.


	8. Tricking out a Treat (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's reflection was a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy
> 
>  **Rating:** R (for implied kink)
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** cross-dressing with corset, implied D/s
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #007: Halloween. Many thanks to eeyore9990 for the beta.

"So," Tommy said, "we're doing this because Halloween is like a gay Christmas?"

"Girl, enough." Sutan tapped Tommy's nose. "You were the one who wanted to give Adam a gift. Now close your eyes and don't move a single muscle in your pretty face until I say so."

Sighing, Tommy obeyed. The brushes that Sutan swirled around his eyes and over his forehead and cheeks were soft. The slight drag against his skin seemed to go directly to his silk-wrapped cock, as did the teasing warmth of Sutan's breath against his ear.

 _Adam damn well better appreciate this_ , he thought.

^~^

"All done, honey," Sutan said.

"Fucking finally." Tommy went over to the three-way mirror.

His reflection was a revelation.

Velvet tipped ears peeked through his hair. His face was half-hidden by an elaborate black and silver mask of make-up, glitter, and rhinestones. The black leather corset and matching skirt, slit to the hip on both sides, framed and shaped his torso, creating the illusion of a waist and ass.

He spun around. The skirt flared out from his waist, displaying a hint of the purple silk binding his cock and balls. "

"Jesus fuck," Tommy murmured. "Baby boy's gonna flip."

^~^

At the sound of the garage door opening and closing, Tommy moved from where he was perched on the edge of the couch to the open space in front of the fireplace. His heart beating fast, he sank to his knees.

The corset forced him to keep his back rigidly straight. The skirt covered his upper thighs and touched the rug behind his feet. The collar that Sutan had decorated to match his mask lay on a purple silk cushion in front of him.

Bending his head, his long bangs falling in front of his face, he waited for Adam.


	9. When the Word is Made Flesh (Adam/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you look in the mirror, the mirror looks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam, pairing implied  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #009: Scars. Many thanks to Minxie for the beta. The title is part of this quote from Leonard Cohen's _The Favorite Game_ : “Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”

There are friends and lovers, those who don't give a damn, and those who catch you when you're staring in the mirror, seeing the fat kid, the acne-scarred, freakish kid.

They whisper in your ear, reminding you that you owe them, that everyone else takes advantage, offering nothing and getting everything. The irony escapes you in that moment.

Because you've lost the glitter and glam, the make-up and clothes. You've got nothing but the pitted scars on your face and back, and freckles that draw attention to them, the constant ache and surety that you'll always be alone, a failure.

(0)

It's part of why you love him, you think: the fact that he has the courage to stand between you and the mirror, between you and those imaginary others.

He doesn't laugh at your fear. He kisses your scars and your freckles, tells you that he loves them because they are part of who you are.

And on the darkest of days, when the kid in the mirror is crying and the scars seem to glow, he reminds you that you're not that kid any longer, that you have friends. That most of all, best of all, you have him.


	10. All Summer Long He Touched Me (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ache is a phantom that haunts Tommy every day, every hour, every minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #009: Scars. Many thanks to aislinntlc and batdina for the beta. The title comes from Leonard Cohen's _Our Lady of Solitude_.

The ache is a phantom that haunts Tommy every day, every hour, every minute. They told him he was imagining it, that the wounds were completely healed and couldn't possibly hurt. He flipped them off, gritted his teeth, and picked up his guitar.

He'd rather stop living than stop making music. And music is a full body experience. He falls into it, throws his head around, whips his hair all over the place. Every thrashing, head banging, shredding moment is a victory that proves his body's his playground.

Even if he can't trust anyone enough to share it with them.

>*<  


Tommy hides in plain sight. A cover-up created from brilliant ink, dyed and shaven hair, piercings, and make-up that a former girlfriend taught him to apply before sending him off into the world alone.

A narcissistic peacock, she called him. One who displays only for himself.

She kept her distance, moving further away with each new colour added to his arms. He began wearing long sleeves for her, so she didn't have to look at the horror sleeve, then hoodies to hide the crazy hair so her parents didn't freak out.

Now he's addicted to those additional layers of protection.

>*<  


Tommy's miles down the road, on a tour bus with a bunch of crazy people who have become his 'glamily', when he realises that Adam Lambert's attracted instead of distracted by Tommy's new plumage. He strokes his hands over the ink, ruffles and tugs on the hair, kisses off the lipstick.

It's a disaster waiting to happen, and Tommy doesn't know what else to do except shove a wall of 'not my type' between them. For a while, he tells himself it'll work.

And it might have, if it hadn't been so goddamn impossible to keep his hands off Adam.

>*<  


After surviving Cabo and more nights of 'fanservice' than he can count, Tommy's surprised when the breaking point comes. Not after a concert, as he'd expected, but during one of their rare three day breaks.

They've been on the road so long that he doesn't care what day it is or what city they're in. Just that they've got hotel rooms, and he can stretch.

He's in the suite with everyone else, rolling the muscles in his shoulders and neck, trying to tell himself, yet again, that the ache is a mirage.

That, of course, is when Adam reaches out.

>*<  


For the first few seconds, as Adam's big hands massage his neck and shoulders, Tommy feels like purring. His head falls forward. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes.

Then Adam's hands knead their way down his spine and back up again to spread out and catch the muscles of his shoulder blades. Tommy flinches away, and he almost bites through his lip trying not to cry out loud.

Adam stills completely, his hands still splayed over Tommy's back. There's a signal Tommy misses in his need to control himself.

Just like that everyone leaves and they're alone.

>*<  


"Tommy?" Adam is quiet, tentative.

Drawing his knees up, Tommy buries his face in them. He wraps his arms around his legs, holding on tight, because that's the only way to keep himself from running away. Although staying is so insane, he doesn't know why it feels so important.

Adam's hands move. Gentle sweeps of his fingertips expose the ridges that curve around Tommy's shoulder blades. "Tommy?" Adam repeats.

Shivers run through Tommy, starting in his gut and shuddering through him, but he doesn't stop Adam from pushing up his hoodie and t-shirt.

Nothing else to do but fucking wait.

>*<  


This time Adam's fingers trace the scars. A barely-there touch that bumps over Tommy's ribs and eases the ache like nothing else has. "Oh, Tommy."

Tommy's back muscles flutter, and the loss of weight, of movement, of stretch and flex slams back into him all over again. He keens, a high, piercing, alien sound, and braces for yet another abandonment.

Instead, Adam shifts, lowers himself to the floor and extends his legs on either side of Tommy's. He slides his hands along Tommy's arms, using their length, their strength, to pull him in close.

Overwhelmed, Tommy bites his lip again.

>*<  


Tommy's achingly aware of what this embrace is not. Not the curl of wings around him. Not the warmth of feathers, keeping him safe and close. But it's Adam's front snug against Tommy's back, his head resting against Tommy's, and it's the closest Tommy's been to warm and safe in years.

Unable to help himself, Tommy leans back, letting Adam bear his weight and a fraction of his trust.

Minutes pass, and something long-hidden unfurls inside Tommy. Tentative, barely acknowledged, even as he turns his head to look in Adam's eyes.

This kiss, when it happens, is just for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more of this 'verse, see [So Many Stood Apart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/314645/chapters/608207).


	11. Relativity (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months on the road, crowded onto buses, sharing hotel rooms, literally living on top of each other, being alone is wonderful, awful, and seriously fucking strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #010: time flies. Thanks to aislinntlc and batdina for the preread, and to thrace_adams for encouraging me when I failed.

After months on the road, crowded onto buses, sharing hotel rooms, literally living on top of each other, being alone is wonderful, awful, and seriously fucking strange.

Tommy skims You Tube, sends random texts to his friends, alternately lurks and shit-stirs on Twitter. Barely watched movies stream across his screen. He writes music that's depressing as all fuck.

A long, luxurious stretch turns into a moment of mourning when he doesn't whack someone while doing it.

More often than he'll ever admit, Tommy turns to joke with Adam or Isaac, Sutan or Cam, even Neil on one very bad day.

~o~

The days pass slowly, like being stuck in quicksand. After two, three weeks, the doorbell buzzes. He ignores it. His friends know enough to leave him alone until he emerges from his self-imposed Tommy Time.

Another longer buzz, and he wonders if it's the fucking Jehovah's Witnesses. Although he can't imagine them returning after that last time. He thought the woman was going to have a damn stroke on him. It was totally fucking awesome.

Then whoever's on the other side knocks. The beat's familiar, and Tommy's up on his feet, opening the door, before he can change his mind.

~o~

Tommy gets a glimpse of black, of sunglasses and the world's most ridiculous hat, before someone shoves past him.

"Come on in," he grumbles as he locks the door. "Fucking make yourself at home why don't you?"

"I've missed you, too." Adam's already dumped the cover-up and is lighting up Tommy's living room.

Not that Tommy would ever tell him that. "Phone beyond your abilities?"

"Bitch," Adam says fondly. His hand twitches as he strokes the Libra ink on Tommy's wrist, and Tommy leans into him, feels time start to fly again.

It always does when he's in Adam's arms.


	12. Edging Silent (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I draw the knife down Tommy's chest and circle his nipples. The blade barely drags on the fine hairs as it shaves them close to his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Word Count:** 5 x 100  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** BDSM, knifeplay  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #011: quiet. Thanks to florida_minxie for the preread.

I run my hands over Tommy, from the bindings at his ankles to those around his wrists, paying careful attention to the fit of the blindfold and earplugs. His skin quivers beneath my touch, but he remains still and quiet.

Waiting. Like the knife that's lying on the bed at my side.

The blade is already scalpel-sharp, but I pick up the strop anyway. Once, twice, three times. Each one a warning for Tommy of what is to come.

The tip of his tongue sweeps over his lips. His jaw works. He exhales on a sigh.

His anticipation is palpable.

o0O0o

I draw the knife down Tommy's chest and circle his nipples. The blade barely drags on the fine hairs as it shaves them close to his skin.

His chest moves with his shallow breathing. A fine sheen of sweat starts in the hollow of his throat. I lift the knife, not wanting to break the skin yet, and lick the few drops.

He sighs again, draws the corner of his lower lip into his mouth and bites. I allow that small disobedience only because I know what it means. How he's fighting the urge to spill words into the quiet.

o0O0o

A twist of the knife, a flick and then another, and his nipples rise to peaks that are perfect for my mouth, my fingers. But that's for another time. I scrape the blade over them, drawing a quiet sigh from Tommy.

I kiss his navel, a reward for his restraint, lapping a damp trail that I follow with the knife. Dark, curly hairs part from his pale skin as the blade moves ever downward.

When the knife reaches the nest of curls around his dick, I pause. Red lines cross his torso, fading to pink near his collarbones.

My marks.

o0O0o

I balance the blade on its tip and draw a spiraling line over to his left side. To the faded scar that mars one prominent hipbone. I hold the knife there, a fraction of a second too long, and the skin parts beneath it.

A tiny puncture, nothing more, but it pulls another quiet sigh from Tommy. Causes his dick to jerk. And sends want, need, _possession_ slamming through me.

Dragging the knife back over to Tommy's dick, I create a welted trail from the bead of blood on his hip over to his dick.

He's riding the edge now.

o0O0o

I use the knife to outline his dick, his balls. Each slide, each curving lick gets closer and closer until I'm wrapping his dick in an imaginary cage.

Moving the blade faster and faster, I trail it up and around the thick vein on the underside. Press it against the length of his dick. I lean over him, flatten my tongue and lick my way up the blade, up his dick, from root to tip.

I close my mouth over the head, sucking him in, tasting him.

And with a quiet, "Adam," my boy, my Tommy, breaks so very beautifully.


	13. If You Send It, They Will Read (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look before you tweet is the best advice Tommy never received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy
> 
>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #012: [picture prompt](http://glam-100.dreamwidth.org/14975.html). Thanks to batdina for the beta.

"In your dreams, Lambert." Tommy snickers at the 'snow sculpture' on his screen. He responds to Adam's DM:

_Too thin. And yours doesn't curve that much. Try again._

A few minutes later, Adam DMs him back with another picture.

_You're good for my ego, bb. You like this one any better?_

This time Tommy outright giggles as he shakes his head. He clicks through to the gallery and starts checking out the selection. When he's sure he has the right one, he returns to Twitter.

_I've had that thing of yours in my ass, Lambert. This one's closer to reality._

#@#

A half second later, Tommy's phone is just about jumping off the table, buzzing with texts, and the Twitter app on his laptop is flickering from all the @replies and tweets.

"Christ," he mumbles. "What the fuck did you just do?"

His churning stomach and shaking hands pretty much answer that question, as he tries to remember whether you actually can reply publicly to a DM. Hell, whether he actually replied or sent a new tweet. Fuck if he can remember.

He's about to check when his Twitter app flings up a message of doom and then crashes and burns.

#@#

At least, Tommy's phone is still working. This is so not the time for Adam to be in New York, doing fucking interviews. Then again, if Adam were home, Tommy wouldn't have done what he's sure he did.

"Tommy?" Adam's gentleness almost breaks him. "You okay?"

"Fuck." And then, because there's nothing else to say, he asks, "Who won the bet?"

"Cam. No one else thought you'd last this long."

"Nice to know my friends have faith in me."

"You're not alone," Adam says.

Tommy curls up on the couch. "Talk to me," he says, and Adam does. All night.


	14. She (Tommy/Isaac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finds her irresistible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Tommy/Isaac  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Innuendo  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #013: Play Room. Thanks to batdina for the beta

The play room was dim, but Tommy didn't bother turning on the lights when he crept inside and closed the door silently behind him. Unable to resist any longer, he knelt in front of the rack across from the wide windows.

Need jolting through him, he caressed the smooth skin of her body, ran his hands up her neck. Simple touches that told him how and where to pluck, to hold down, to slice.

"Take her," Isaac murmured in Tommy's ear. "You know you want to."

Tommy smiled, leaned back to kiss him, then pulled the guitar into his lap.


	15. The Room (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room has no windows that a photographer or fan could use to peek or pry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** Adult  
>  **Word Count:** 4 x 100  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** BDSM  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #013: Play Room. Thanks to eeyore9990 for the beta.

The room has no windows that a photographer or fan could use to peek or pry. Its only door is guarded by an alarm whose combination is known only to Adam, Tommy, and their designated secret-keepers.

_It doesn't stop. Never stops. I can't. I try, you know I do, but I just can't. Make. It. Stop._

_It's already stopped. Right now. Right here. Can you hear the silence?_

The walls are soundproofed. Nothing from outside invades; nothing from inside escapes.

_Can't even feel the music. So lost._

_I've got you, baby. Feel my arms around you, my legs holding you._

oOo

No cell phones are permitted in the room. No laptops or iPads. No Twitter, email, or text. The router signal doesn't reach here. An old telephone is mounted to the wall for dire emergencies only, its number known by very few.

_How can I? How can they expect? Christ, I don't know what they see._

_Close your eyes for me. Let the velvet bring you darkness._

The floor covering is thick and washable, scattered with cushions and pillows.

_I don't know how._

_You're shaking so much. I need you to focus on my hands, the way I'm stroking your arms._

oOo

A custom-made four-poster bed takes up nearly a quarter of the room. The draperies are heavy silk with tasselled ties that have a multitude of uses.

_Too fucking much. I can't even..._

_Shhhh. Hold on to this. Wrap an end around each of your wrists. Feel the silk. How soft it is. How it holds you like I do._

O-rings are fixed to each of the posts. The slats in the headboard are perfectly sized and shaped for a pair of long-fingered hands. None of them are needed tonight.

_Oh, fuck._

_Your nipples, so sensitive to every pinch and scratch._

oOo

The sound system is state of the art, identical to the one in the rest of the house. The songs are different here, separate from the rest of their lives, and frequently left unplayed.

_Please?_

_Suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Bite it. Just like that. You don't need a gag._

_Listen to the music our bodies are making. Can you hear my hand on your dick? Feel the beat curling your toes._

_Let go, baby. I've got you._

Some nights, like tonight, the toys stay in their places, and the room guards the touch of skin to skin.


	16. On the Fourth Night (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly am I supposed to do with these?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing/Characters:** Adam/Tommy  
>  **Rating:** Adult  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Bondage, wax play  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #014: picture prompt of a Hanukkah menorah with candles. Thanks to batdina for the beta.

Adam frowns at the colorful box and then looks at Tommy. "What exactly am I supposed to do with these?"

"They're candles, right? Aren't you supposed to light them or something?" Tommy shrugs. "Why're you asking me anyway? You're the Jewish one."

"But I'm not a practicing Jew. I thought you knew that."

"Well, yeah, dude. You're almost thirty." Tommy gives Adam one of his patented _duh_ looks. "Why do you still need to practice? It's not like playing guitar or keys."

"Oh my god, you—" By the time Adam's stopped laughing, he knows exactly how to use Tommy's gift.

===~

"Oh-kay." Tommy stretches out the first syllable as he tugs on one of the ropes tethering his arms to the headboard. "What does this have to do with me buying you Hanukkah candles?"

Adam runs a hand down Tommy's bare chest and rests it on one of Tommy's hipbones. He smiles at the way Tommy's skin shivers beneath his touch, the way Tommy's dick curves towards his hand. "The rules say that I have to light the candles every night for eight days."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, I don't have a Hanukkiah or a candelabra small enough to hold these candles."

===~

"So damn soft," Adam says, stroking the skin of Tommy's inner thigh. He can picture the rainbow he wants to create, the splashes and spatters of color. The image arcs through Adam like a lightning bolt, right down his spine and into his balls.

Releasing a breath, he drags his nails up Tommy's leg, through his curly dark pubic hair, and up over his stomach, admiring the red lines that follow in their wake. "Such smooth pale skin needs... decoration."

"Something more lasting than these scratches, which fade so quickly, but not as permanent as the ink on your arms."

===~

Leaning down, Adam licks the scratches following them up to Tommy's nipples. The trace of salt, the faint heat from the fading welts, the taste of Tommy's skin catch on Adam's tongue and make him _want_.

He straightens up and reaches for the four candles he's picked for tonight, putting them between his fingers and thumb and fanning them out. He picks a blue candle for lighting and hands it to Tommy.

"What am I supposed to—"

"Hold it for a second." Lighting the blue candle, Adam tosses the lighter onto the night table and takes the candle from Tommy.

===~

"The thing about Hanukkah candles," Adam says, as he dips the wick of each candle in his hand through the flame of the blue one, lighting them one at a time from left to right, "is that they're meant to drip."

"Fuck," Tommy whispers. He shifts his hips; his cock bounces.

Adam licks his lips, resisting the urge to taste the thin string of precome that briefly stretches between the head of Tommy's cock and his stomach.

"So pretty," Adam says, and turns his hands carefully so that the wax beading on the candles drips down onto Tommy's shaven skin.

===~

Blue, purple, red, orange, and yellow wax splashes onto Tommy's skin. Each drop draws a hiss from him.

Adam moves his hands in a slow arc, back and forth, painting a rainbow from Tommy's left hip to his right shoulder. With each pass, Tommy's hisses become sighs, become moans.

The pattern wavers as Tommy bucks upward, arching so that wax splatters onto his dick and then his nipple.

"God, Tommy," Adam groans. Heat from the candles burns through him, fills him.

"Adam, please." Tommy clutches at the ropes around his wrists, his legs fall apart, and he begs, "Fuck, please."

===~

Adam's hands are shaking by the time the candles burn down close to his skin. He discards them onto the plate on the night table and slicks his right hand with lube. Then he moves to kneel between Tommy's legs.

"So beautiful," Adam says, trailing his fingers down the rainbow from nipple to hip. The wax is still warm, not quite hardened; it spreads lightly under his fingertips.

Tommy moans, his skin quivering beneath Adam's touch.

"So much light, so much life," Adam says, leaning forward, resting his weight on his left hand, and wrapping his right around their dicks.

===~

Tommy's heels are a comfortable weight on Adam's thighs as he jerks them off.

"Fuck." Tommy chants as he writhes beneath Adam, pushing into his hand, sliding their dicks together.

Adam lowers himself onto Tommy, pressing his chest against Tommy's. The wax is soft, tacky against his skin. He undulates, moving his hand faster and faster.

He pushes up with his left hand. As they separate, the wax drags for a moment then pulls away with a sharp pain that shoots straight to Adam's dick. They both come, moaning each other's names.

Afterwards, Tommy smirks. "Five candles tomorrow night, yeah?"


	17. The Morning After the Night Before (Neil, Adam, Genfic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brothers don't have to share everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Neil, Adam  
>  **Rating:** G (for genfic)  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Humor (I hope)  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #015: Hangover Hamburgers. Many thanks to Minxie for the beta.

Neil's head is pounding. The bus reeks of last night's party: tequila, beer, and something disgusting that catches at his throat and makes his stomach roil.

"Neil," Adam whines. "Close the fucking sun."

Shoving Adam's feet off one end of the couch, Neil sits down, opens his bag, and breathes in the scent of greasy beef and fried onions.

"You have a hamburger," Adam says, rising out of a tangle of blankets. "Gimme."

"Get your own hangover cure. This one's mine."

"Asshole."

"And yet Mom loves me best." Neil smirks at him then takes a big bite of his burger.


End file.
